Plots, Contracts, and Bullets
by daveypandas
Summary: The mafia is causing trouble in the country of Amestris in order to bring down the military and get what they want. A lot is going on, including kidnappings. When Al gets kidnapped, Ed and Roy have to go undercover together, both posing as mobsters.RoyxEd
1. A Big Problem

A/N: I've been working on this story for awhile by hand. Even though I'm not finished with half of it, I'm satisfied. In this story, there's going to be terms and slang, which will be explained at the end of each chapter.

Disclaimer: I have no intention of owning FMA, though all the characters I made up and added are mine. So is this fan fiction.

* * *

**Cookies, Contracts, and Bullets**

_By animeartist1_

* * *

Creata and Areugo, which border the western and southern rims of Amestris, have been having more frequent border skirmishes with the Amestrian military than usual. As it seemed, this was trouble for everyone except the mafia. During one of the earlier skirmishes, several citizens from each country saw the organization's weaponry and decided to make a deal – they'd pay the mafia. That's when these secret grafts were being carried over. In exchange, the mafia had to fence weapons and kidnap people from Amestris in order to get anything they wanted out of the military. This operation was the most-discussed beef with the higher-ups, and it took them longer to do than they thought. The grafts were extremely large amounts of senz, enough to convince anyone to do the most extreme criminal activity for. After some time, the two countries and the military made peace, but the mafia continued to operate, so far by extortion and racketeering.

The other crime families bordering Creata and Areugo neutrally stayed behind. Once the two countries made peace with the military, the mafia realized how much they could profit from the military without having to have any grafts sent to them. When the chairman and all the other higher-up members were through holding a sit-down to discuss the situation, they agreed to several things in order to continue their plan. They knew extortion all by itself wouldn't be much use.

On that exceedingly foggy night, the chairman was riding back from the meeting in his limousine. They stopped at a deserted area where two of his men were waiting for him. The two men emerged from the darkness, eager to hear the news from their boss himself. When his men stopped to catch their breath, the forty-year-old chairman nastily smiled, revealing his grime-coated teeth. "We have decided to continue the operation, boys."

The boss's first capo asked, "What's our next move going to be? Where do we go next?"

"Tell the others in Amestris to hold up hostages, preferably those who are closest to the military," answered the boss. "We've found ways to make easy money and have more power than ever. Okay, listen up. I'm traveling to Amestris tonight. I want the both of you to call over the rest of my most trusted men to meet me at the bar in South City later this week. James, I want you to tell the crews and the heads of the other borgatas." He turned to the other man, "And Ciro, I want you to inform every other wiseguy in our own borgata. Got it?"

Both men silently nodded. When the chairman held out his hand, each of the men traditionally leaned over to kiss it. Before stepping back into his limousine, the chairman rashly pulled his hand away. "Don't forget my instructions."

James and Ciro watched as their chairman was driven away.

* * *

The military didn't know this plan, but they knew the mafia has caused many problems in Amestris already, enough problems to enrage many civilians and soldiers. Roy Mustang became irritated at all that was going on and curiously asked himself why Central hasn't done anything about it. Instead, all of the Colonel's inferiors had to face his frustration, and they tried to avoid it whenever they could. There were more kidnappings growing closer to the Eastern Command, including the all-too-common Ishbalan ones. That's why they decided to make peace treaties with Creata and Areugo… _Still, _the Colonel wondered, _what if there's more? _

He kept a close eye on everyone working under him, especially Edward Elric, since he was younger than the rest of his inferiors. As he thought about it more, it really wasn't something he had to worry about. Roy smiled. It was obvious that Ed would bug the living hell out of any criminal who dared to upset him, though it wasn't very likely due to Roy's whole new set of orders.

But this is when things began to change…

Alphonse Elric hastily shook his older brother awake the following morning. "Brother! I'm going outside!"

"Al…it's early…" Ed mumbled. "Shouldn't you stay here?" He turned to his other side and dozed off.

"Don't worry. I'll walk around between here and the Eastern Command Headquarters, and I'll be back in about two hours. Okay?"

"Mmmkay…" Ed groaned in his sleep.

As soon as Al came outside, the damp weather from the past night placed dew on his suit of armor. The dew was so heavy, he thought the armor would rust before his trip was over. He thought his eyes were deceiving him at first when he was passing by an alley on the border of the Eastern City. An unpleasant sight caught him by surprise – three men, all wearing hats were dragging a woman and her toddler to a large black car without a license plate; the woman was crying hysterically. Then it hit him – this _had_ to be the crime organization!

Prepared to fight, Al tightened his fists. "Let them go!"

The men looked up and saw the suit of armor standing valiantly before them. Two of the ordinary-looking men held guns to the woman and child while the other man idly chuckled, raised a gun, and shot Al's helmet off, revealing his blood seal. "Just like I've heard…you're not from prison?"

"I'm not a crook like you," Al answered, this time more nervously. When the man came closer, Al noticed he had a milk-colored glass eye. The rest of him looked completely normal. The other men's faces were stony and glum-looking.

"You better watch your mouth," the man with a glass eye said. He had the gun pressed approximately where the blood seal was. "Or I'll blow your lovely seal into lots of metal pieces." The man grabbed Al's helmet and led him to the trunk. "Get in." When they drove away, only a folded sheet of paper was left behind on the street:

_We have the precious armor who calls himself Alponse. Surrender or else!_

– _Yours truly_

_P.S. Your time is shortening by every passing day._

_

* * *

_

Edward waited all morning long to hear from Al. Two hours had already passed, adding to it another two hours. _Four hours and he still hasn't come back…_He gave up waiting and decided to look for Al himself, despite the kidnapping reports. On the street, he searched from their apartment to the Eastern Command HQ. While he was at Eastern Command, he went to pay Mustang a small visit to see if he would offer any help. Mustang was sitting at his polished, wooden desk scribbling on a stack of paperwork.

"Hello, Fullmetal," he said very casually when he saw Ed standing before him. "What brings you here?"

"Well," Ed mumbled as he brushed his golden-blonde hair from his eyes, "I can't find Al. It's been two hours later than expected."

"Did you look for him?" Roy rolled the pen between his fingers like dough. "Isn't _not _seeing him impossible?"

"You know, keeping up with a seven foot armor isn't as easy as it looks. I'll let you try it sometime."

"Oh really? It would be an honor," Roy mocked. "After all, maybe I'd do a better job." He leaned his back against the leather chair. "Okay. If it would make you feel better, I'll send a few people to search for him. Why don't you stay here and have tea? I'm almost done."

"Pfft! Yeah right…" Ed took a seat on one of the black couches in front of Roy's desk.

Roy picked up the desk phone and dialed a number. "Hello, Havoc. I want you and a few other men to search for Alphonse Elric…no, no…Just look around the city and bring him here…yes, Ed's waiting in my office…okay…bye." He turned to Ed. "They'll report to me as soon as your brother is found, so wait here. By the way, have you seen anything unusual when you were coming up?"

"Nope. Nothing out of the ordinary, but that's because I took the shortcut… Why are you asking?"

"I need to find out if the mafia has reached this city yet."

Ed let out a small bark of laughter. "I can't believe you're still going after them. How important is it…seriously?"

"Important enough. If they did reach this city, Al could have been kidnapped." Roy flipped through his paperwork to check off a few things. "And if he was, it could only mean worse things… We'll have to wait and see instead of sitting here discussing what we don't know." He tucked the paperwork into a huge yellow envelope, stamped it, and set it in a wire-lined basket. When finished, he yawned, then rested both his elbows on the desk. After a minute of silence, he said, "You haven't grown any taller this week. It makes me wonder if you ever will."

"I'M NOT SHORT! Besides, nobody grows overnight." Ed stretched out on the couch. "You know what I think?"

"What do you think?" Roy asked with curiosity.

"I think you're flirting."

Roy smirked. "What if I am?"

"Whatever." Ed sighed and leaned back. Several minutes later, Havoc, along with several other men burst into the room; a cigarette was loosely dangling from Havoc's gaped lips. His face was worn with shock.

"Sir!" he saluted. "We didn't find Al, but we found this!" He held out a folded paper.

The Colonel stood up and snatched the paper from Havoc's hand. As he read, Ed studied the look on Roy's face, turning from his regular expression to an expression of great surprise. Without a word, Roy slowly handed the paper to Ed as if it were made of porcelain. Ed opened it and read. When he was through, he angrily dropped the paper, clutched his fists, and said before barred teeth, "Al was…kidnapped…" A tear rolled down his cheek. He angrily asked, "Who did this? H-how could he have been kidnapped?" Ed clasped his left hand over his eyes.

Roy supportably put his hand on Ed's shoulder. "The mafia must have done this…"

Havoc took in a great whiff of his cigarette and faintly sat on the opposite couch. "Oh God," he said. "You know what that means?"

"Yes, I do." Roy put his guard back up. He walked to his desk and picked up the phone. "I'm calling the Furher."

After he dialed the number, King Bradley himself answered. "Hello?"

"Sir, Colonel Mustang speaking."

"Hello, Colonel Mustang. Is there something you wanted to discuss?"

"It's urgent, sir. We believe the mafia has reached East City, and Fullmetal's brother was kidnapped. The only thing left was a hostage note," Roy said a little more briskly.

"Fullmetal's brother was kidnapped? I was recently given a couple other kidnapping reports from Central. Since this is a very important issue, I personally want to conduct a meeting with some of our top-ranking soldiers, including you and your branch. In three hours sharp, I'll arrive at Eastern Headquarters where the meeting will be held. Am I clear?" King Bradley asked.

"Yes, sir!"

"Well then, I shall be seeing you in only a matter of hours, hm? Goodbye Colonel Mustang."

"Goodbye, Furher sir." Roy hung up. Instead of sitting at his desk like he usually does, he sat on the couch beside Ed. Across from them sat a distressed Havoc, who continued to smoke as if it was prerequisite to the situation. Roy told Havoc and Ed what the Furher said about the meeting.

Havoc lifted an eyebrow. "How could a simple thing as the mafia get to us so easily?"

"Simple," Roy answered. "We've never dealt with it, and we don't know how powerful the organization really is."

"What I don't understand is how Al was kidnapped," Ed spoke up. "When we spar, I've never beat him – not even once. Whoever could do this has to have a great amount of strength…or they found out about the blood seal."

Almost too suddenly, Hawkeye, followed by Denny, Ross, Breda, Fuery, Falman, Armstrong, and Hughes came into the Colonel's office.

"Excuse me, sir," Riza said. "We heard about Alphonse-"

"We think the criminal organization is holding him hostage. For now, we're waiting to see what the Furher is going to say. I want all of you to come to his meeting with me. Am I clear?"

His inferiors saluted. "Yes, Sir!"

* * *

A/N: This story is so much fun to write! I had no idea it would turn out this well.

Note: The terms _borgata _and _brugad _both mean "crime family", just in case you had no idea.


	2. The Big Trip

A/N: Lol. Oops. My mistake on the last chapter. I put 'inferiors' instead of 'subordinates'. Sorry, my English is a little off. …The two verbs I really have a grudge against is "leaped" and "leapt". Another thing I have a huge grudge against is milk. Ew.

* * *

**Ch. 2- The Big Trip**

* * *

When the Furher arrived, he sent Juliet Douglas to Mustang's office. It was one of the few times she presented herself without standing alongside of the great military leader. "Furher King Bradley would like to see you and your subordinates in his office."

"We'll be there shortly," Roy replied. Ed remained quiet, his stomach churning from the impatient feeling of mental anguish.

Everyone eagerly followed Roy to the Furher's meeting. An extra office the Furher was using basically was an empty room at the very top floor of the building; it wasn't as refined as his real one in Central. In this office, two large tables were set up in the middle of the room along with a group of men whom Mustang wasn't quite familiar with. Several minutes later, the Furher came into sight saying, "Everybody gather round and take a seat. I have very important information I must share."

When they seated, the Furher took a seat at the end of the table, Juliet beside him. He said, "It appears Alphonse Elric has been kidnapped. We've also received many other reports of kidnappings going on in this county, including those from the Ishbalan camps."

One of the other men raised their hand, "Who do you think is doing this, sir?"

"I'm getting to that," replied King Bradley. "Colonel Mustang, may I see the letter?" Roy passed it over to the other men, down the table until it reached their leader. "Apparently, we don't know exactly who's in charge, or who all is in this. One thing we do know is that it is the work of a crime organization. And it is the same organization that has caused this country so many problems. Until it can be stopped, we will have to postpone searching for the serial killer - Scar. To learn about the issue from the very beginning, I am sending a small group of my top men to Creata and Areugo." The Furher looked at Roy and his subordinates, then to Ed. "Fullmetal Alchemist, rescuing your brother is now your responsibility. I give you permission to go look for your brother – under one condition…" King Bradley faced Roy. "Colonel Mustang, Edward Elric works under your command, am I correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"I want you to keep an eye on him and make sure he's safe. Your job is to learn all you can about this mafia in order to bring it down."

"But Furher, sir, you don't really mean it, do you?" Roy asked, overwhelmed with surprise. "Only the two of us?"

The Furher raised a hand. "Enough, Mustang. I'll explain everything. I'm appointing you and Fullmetal to go undercover as mobsters in order to collect data and to rescue Alphonse. We'll also need you to release a majority of the hostages. Do whatever you possibly can to get information. As for the rest of you, continue with work as if nothing ever happened." He looked at Hughes. "Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, you will temporarily take Colonel Mustang's place to keep away suspicion."

"It would be an honor," Hughes said, his smile growing even wider. He winked at Roy.

"Where are we supposed to go?" Roy asked.

"I suggest traveling around the country and asking people. There's also a variety of hot spots. Questions from anyone else? Well, then. Meeting dismissed. Colonel Mustang and Fullmetal, stay here."

After everyone left the room, the Furher walked over to Roy and Ed. He told them, "When you are on your mission, you are free to use your real names. I know you've never gone undercover before, so do what you can and call if there's anything I should know. The military will pay for your expenses when you return. While you are absent, there is no certain limit of time. But do be very careful. Remember, this is an assignment you can't quit. I chose the both of you, because you are well-suited for the job than anyone else. Before we depart, do you have anything to say?"

Mustang irritably saluted. "I'll do my best, Furher sir." Ed lazily did the same.

"Good." The Furher smiled. "Give me your pocket watches, and I'll keep them safe until your return. It's necessary." Ed hesitated at first, then he gave his watch to the leader. Roy handed his over without question. "You are dismissed. Pack your civilian clothes and start. Good luck."

They left. As they walked down the hall, Ed cursed aloud. "I guess we're stuck with each other now, huh?"

"It may not be that bad, but I don't see why I have to baby-sit you," Roy replied. "I think the Furher has a big promotion in store." He smirked. Ed shot him a dirty look in return.

"By the way," Ed mumbled, "How the hell are we going to catch an entire brugad? …I bet I can rescue Al without _your_ help."

"He was kidnapped by a great crime organization, Ed. If there are enough men to kidnap people around the country, then you definitely need my help." They reached Roy's office, where everyone was waiting. Roy told them, "While I'm gone, work hard." He pointed to Hughes. "And my paperwork better be done by the time I get back."

"Aw, it's a piece of cake." Hughes chuckled.

Hawkeye smiled. "Don't worry, sir. I'll keep them in line. You're the one who needs to be careful." When Roy's subordinates all bid farewells, Roy and Ed got into the car. "My dorm is closer," Ed told him. "I don't have much to pack anyway."

Roy drove him to the dorms, which only took a brief amount of time. Ed took his suitcase out of the closet and quickly packed most of his clothes. When he came back to the car, Roy said, "I'm stopping at my place for a minute to change and pack up."

"You plan on bringing your porn collection with you?"

"If I'm going undercover, Fullmetal, there's no need for things like that. Besides, I don't watch pornography." He lightly smirked, trying to see if Ed would have a good comeback or not. By the time they reached Roy's house, Ed said, "I'll be waiting in the car." The Colonel casually nodded in reply. About seven minutes later, he came out of his house wearing a white dress shirt, brown chinos, and dark tuxedo pumps, carrying a big leather suitcase the size of four pillows put together; he opened the trunk and sat it beside Ed's. As he backed out of the driveway, Ed asked, "Where are we going to go now, Colonel?"

"Where do you want to go?" He shrugged in his oh-so-arrogant manner.

"Maybe we should start with the Ishbalan camps on the outskirts of East City. At least we might find some useful information. You know how to get there?"

"Of course I know," Roy replied. Ed leaned his neck against the seat. "You better be sure, Colonel." And Mustang was right. Soon after, they grew closer to a patch of land decorated with the many bright tents of foreign patterns. Crowds of confused and scared Ishbalans stopped to observe the two getting out of the car, who were weaving their way through the flock. And elderly Ishbalan man stood out above the rest, almost displaying a completely welcoming gesture. He asked, "I'd hate to sound impolite to you two gentlemen, but do either one of you happen to be State Alchemists?"

Neither of them gave a straight answer. Roy told him, "We're here to give a brief investigation for any kidnappings whether we are or not."

"Come," said the old man. He led them to one of the canvas tents, then motioned for them to sit down. A couple other men were in there too. The old man's eyebrows knitted together as he said, "So far, nearly ten of our people have gone missing early today. Do you have any idea what is going on?"

Roy nodded and said, "It's the mafia who's doing the kidnapping. Did you see what the men looked like?"

"I'm afraid not."

"You've probably met my brother before. He was kidnapped," Ed added.

"What is your brother's name? My memory isn't as good as it used to be."

"Alphonse. He's the seven-foot suit of armor."

The old man's eyes glinted. "I remember your brother. He and Scar know each other." Ed could have sworn Mustang's face molded into a big question mark.

"Where's Scar?" Ed asked.

"He'll be back sometime this week," the old man replied, "but I do not know when."

"Will you give him our message about Al?"

"Yes."

Mustang added, "Tell him the military will let him off the hook if he helps."

"That I'll do. May I have the names of the ones who are helping us?" the old Ishbalan man asked.

"Edward Elric."

"I'll remain anonymous," Roy said. The old man nodded. "Very well." He led them out of the tent. Roy and Ed made their way through the groups of Ishbalans and got back to the car. After driving away from the camp areas, Ed said, "Since you're the Colonel, do you have any idea where the hotspots are located?"

"There are many different places in this entire country that are considered as 'hot spots'. I think South City has had the most criminal activity besides Central. Do you want to go there?" Roy asked, a very small hint of excitement in his voice.

"We might as well." Ed sighed. "…If none of this happened, I would still be searching for ways to create a philosopher's stone. But it's worth it if we don't get killed. We obviously have a small chance of reaching the mafia."

"It wouldn't be so bad going to South City. We could multi-task by hunting down the mafia and taking a break at the same time."

"How will we get there? Don't tell me we're going by car."

"No. We'll go there by train," Roy said. He checked his wristwatch. "It's five o'clock sharp right now. If we catch the train that leaves in thirty minutes, it will give us a quick jump-start. Besides, we've already packed."

"Good point," Ed admitted.

When they arrived at the train station in East City, Roy ordered, "Grab the bags while I get the tickets." Ed grumbled. Carrying both bags at once was crude enough. _I bet the Colonel stuffed books in his bag on purpose, just to piss me off… _Ed thought. To pass the time, Ed took a seat at one of the wooden benches, both bags at his feet. A few minutes later, Roy came back with their tickets. "The train is about to board," he said.

"Yeah, I know that. Thanks for reminding me," Ed sarcastically told him.

Roy sat down beside him, stretched, and yawned. "Are we going to get along or not?"

"I dunno. That depends. It really doesn't matter, does it? I have to find a way to get Al back; that's what's important… How does the Furher expect us to do this single-handed? It doesn't make sense. I think he's senile."

Mustang chuckled.

"What's so funny?"

"Not many people say that about the Furher. Personally, I'll have to agree with you. Maybe if he gets worse, it will make it easier for me to get promoted sooner," Roy said. Ed grunted, "You wish." A few minutes later as the train whistle blew, Roy stood up before Ed, grabbed his suitcase, and said, "Okay, Squirt. Need any help with carrying your bag?"

Ed leapt off the bench. "You callin' me short? I'm not short! Or are you flirting again? You'll flirt with anything, dickhead."

"You think so?" Roy slightly raised his eyebrows at the droll comment.

"Yeah." Once they seated themselves in a compartment near the end of the train, Ed yawned. "I'm going to take a nap, so make a stopping point for all your cocky comments…"

Roy mumbled, "Have it your way." For ten minutes, he stared at the ground passing by through the window, out of boredom. Ed was curled up in his seat sleeping like a rock. Roy's attention began to shift; he noticed how different the young State Alchemist appeared, making it harder for him not to stare. While asleep, Ed looked so…peaceful. The Colonel found it hard not to smile. He leaned up with his hand outstretched as he brushed Ed's thick, golden blonde hair from his face. It wasn't enough to wake him.

* * *

They arrived in South City two hours later; a blanket of darkness was beginning to spread among the sky above them. When Ed questioned why streets seemed to be more populated than usual, Roy simply laughed and said, "You didn't know? They have a karaoke bar here which almost everyone knows about. Once every three months, they hold a huge celebration where you can get in cheaper – as long as you want. And that day just so happens to be tomorrow."

Ed clenched his fists. "You bastard! We came all this way by train to go to a karaoke bar? Dammit! What the hell's wrong with you?"

"Chill out. With all the extra visitors in this city, we might find what we're looking for. Besides, I've been there only once several years ago, and I'm pretty sure it had some shady characters in it then," Roy explained. "For now, though, let's find a place to stay." Ed peevishly nodded.

A lot of the hotels seemed to be crowded, so they found themselves standing before what appeared to be empty of any people. Inside, it was luxurious, topped with a French style and marble flooring. At the left side of the room, an elderly receptionist wearing large glasses politely waved at the two. When they came up to the desk, Roy asked, "Are the rooms here available?"

"Yes, there are plenty of available rooms here," the old receptionist answered with a slight accent. Her large spectacles magnified her eyes, giving the old lady a rather ridiculous appearance. She flipped through all the papers in her desk until she pulled out what looked like a large white guest book. Upon her shoulder sat a strange-looking black bird (or crow). When its dark, beady eyes sharply examined Roy and Ed, the bird squawked, as if it was clearing its throat, then recited, "_There was an old woman of Croydon, to look young she affected the Hoyden, and she would jump and would skip, till she put out her hip; alas poor old woman of Croydon._"

Ed stared at the bird, dumbstruck. "It talks?"

"His name is Flug Dichter." The receptionist opened the guest book and sat out a pen. "Sign right here."

"How much does it cost to stay?" Roy asked.

She shrugged. "Not much. We lowered the prices not too long ago. What is the name?"

"Mustang."

"All right…" she grinned before signing a different form. After Roy was through signing the guest list, the receptionist gave him a tagged key. "Okay, here's your key - B27 is your room."

"Thank you," Roy said, flashing his charming white smile.

On the way to the room, Ed mumbled, "She's not normal…neither is that bird…"

"I can tell."

When they entered the suite, Ed ran in, half excited. He said, "It's bigger than I expected. Isn't that great?" True, it was huge, but there was one problem standing before them – only one queen sized bed. "The bed is mine," Roy announced.

"No way!" Ed argued. "You're sleeping on the couch!"

"Wanna bet, Fullmetal?"

"I'll fight you for it!"

"Bring it on." Roy wasn't wearing his gloves, but he was still ready to fight. Ed tackled his feet, causing Roy to stumble, face flat. While Ed was getting up, Roy tugged his arm, then pinned him to the floor. He buried Ed's face in the carpet. "Give up now, Edward?" Ed twisted and turned under Mustang's weight. Eventually, he freed himself. "Whatever, Colonel. I'm going to bed."

"Without anything to eat?"

Ed sighed. "I'm too tired."

* * *

At the receptionist's desk, the butler stopped his conversation to listen to a strange noise coming from upstairs. "Shh…Fauve, did you hear zat noise?"

They both stopped to observe the odd 'thumping' noises. The butler grinned from ear to ear and said with enthusiasm, "They're doing it!" The old lady receptionist, Fauve, gasped and held a hand to her bosom. "Oh my! It must be our lucky day! Finally! …Is the camera on, Pierre?" she asked as she adjusted her large spectacles which were held up by the bridge of her nose.

The butler paused as he scratched his forehead. "Um…well…I had no idea and I…uh…forgot to hook it up…" Old lady Fauve frowned at Pierre and slapped him once in the head once with her blue silk money pouch. The poor butler cowered as he said, "…Wait…ouch….What about Flug?"

Fauve grinned. "Dear son, I think he has a brighter mind than you do."

But the staff members' predictions about what was going on upstairs were wrong. They were very far from being accurate.

* * *

As Ed was pulling the covers over himself, he heard something squawk near his feet. As he raised the blankets, Flug suddenly popped out and bit him on the nose, scattering black feathers everywhere from agitation. Ed swung at the bird and madly cursed at it. Unharmed, Flug roosted himself on one of the bedposts and began to recite: "_There was an old woman of Ealing. She jump'd till her head touch'd the ceiling; when two one six four was announce'd at her door, as a prize to th'Old Woman of Ealing._"

Ed cursed at it again, grabbing it by the feet and hanging it upside down. Flug began to complain and beg, "_Wait, Shorty! Wait! I wanna see some action with you and the tall guy! Sex! Sex! Sex!_" Ed opened the window and threw the black bird out in the nightly air. Ed yelled after it, "Damn bird! If you want to see it so bad, go do it yourself!" He slammed the window shut.

"What's all the commotion?" Roy came into the room. A damp towel was wrapped around his bare shoulders.

"It's that bird…a damn pervert and it isn't even human…" Ed said, his jaws clenched. He didn't dare tell him what the bird wanted to see… "In fact, I don't even think it's a real bird." His nose stung from the minor bite.

Roy laughed. "It must have really pissed you off." He threw the towel to Ed. "Here, wipe off your nose. It's bleeding a little bit."

Ed didn't say anything. He wiped the blood off his nose and checked the covers to make sure it was safe and got into the bed. "Are you ever going to sleep?" he asked Roy. "I'm turning the light off either way."

"Now I am." Roy got in bed. "Goodnight, Fullmetal."

"You too, Colonel bastard."

* * *

A/N: Just to let you know, Flug recites _The 16 Wonderful Old Women_ limericks. In German, "Flug" means "poet", and "Dichter" means "flight". Also, the perverted hotel staff here may be French, but the French aren't always perverted, so please don't get the wrong idea. Other than that, feel free to review!

Note: In these terms, a 'hot spot' or 'hot place' is usually a place under surveillance by the police, but in this story, I'm also using the term as a commonplace for criminals.


	3. The Karaoke Bar and The Boss's Corner

A/N: Here comes another chapter!

* * *

**Ch.3- The Karaoke Bar and the Boss's Corner **

* * *

Early in the morning, Ed awoke from hearing loud 'clinking' and 'clanking' sounds. A man wearing a white outfit complemented with a dark beret turned around, grinned from ear to ear, and asked with a heavy accent – same as the receptionist's, "Breakfast in ze bed?" He was holding a tray which held a dish of foreign pastries and coffee. The other tray was resting on the dresser.

"Who are you?" Roy asked. He was sitting up against the bed's backboard.

"I am ze butler. My name ez Trevizo le Pierre ze third. Call me Pierre if you wish." He sat the tray he was holding on the dresser beside the other one. Ed was careful not to show his auto mail; he concealed it under the sheets. Roy hastily nodded. Pierre said, lifting his hand up in the air to an invisible utopia, "I muzt get gone. The day, she ez zo bright, and it'z time to get buzy." He left their suite, carrying himself proudly, almost in an inhuman way.

Ed made sure the butler left before getting out of bed to observe the trays containing some familiar and foreign food. He cautiously picked out what he thought would be okay to eat; Roy was daring enough to try the strange food. When they finished and dressed, Roy said, "It would be a good idea to get a good look around this city."

"At least it's better than being stuck inside all day…with _that _bird." Ed sighed as he slid both gloves on, the same he wore the day before.

They carefully locked the suite door and came downstairs. Flug was perched on the receptionist's shoulder with a patch of his feathers missing under the wing. He addressed, "_There was an old woman named Towl, who went out to Sea with her Owl, but the Owl was seasick. And she screamed for physic; which sadly annoy'd Mistress Towl._"

The receptionist tilted her head when she saw Roy and Ed blankly staring at its patch of skin and said, "I found poor Flug Dichter early this morning. Do either of you know what could have happened to this precious little bird?"

Ed guiltily smiled. "Um…not that I could think of. One of the windows were probably open or something…"

"Ah, that must have been the case," she said. "Very well, then." Fauve continued with her paperwork. Roy and Ed quietly left, passing a couple maids on their way out.

Outside, the air seemed a little less foggy than it did. Ed casually strutted alongside Roy, asking, "So, what is this bar like? Is it big, full of drunk thugs, what?"

"You'll see. It's a surprise."

"I hate to be kept guessing, Colonel." It was obvious to Ed he wouldn't tell. That was what the problem was with Mustang; either he was patient, or he's a procrastinator – both.

All day, they leisurely inspected the entire city, stopping only to rest. The news about the kidnappings were stubbornly disregarded by most of the citizens and travelers, and it made things a little tougher. Most people were clearly aware, but it didn't seem to matter. Perhaps there weren't any kidnappings in this city yet… As the day carried on, Roy and Ed familiarized themselves with the structure of the city and shortcuts until it was time to head to the bar by eight o'clock pm. On their way back, Ed warned, "We're here for a reason. You better not get drunk just so you can throw up on me."

Roy smirked. "Now that you put it that way, maybe I will," he teased.

When they went inside, the karaoke bar was like an enormous alcoholic's heaven. Loads of different people from many different places were seated among the tables and bars, listening to the sweet music, which gradually lowered down to the off-key lyrics of the many bold and daring drunkards. Roy and Ed finally found a seat at one of the bars, waiting for the bartender to come by. Ed surveyed the crowds of many different people, but he couldn't see hardly anything due to the mass. He tapped the Colonel on the shoulder. "Umm…Roy?"

"Yes?"

"Are you sure we're at the right place? This doesn't look like much of a 'hot spot' to me!"

"Chill, Ed. We have only been here for a minute."

Before Ed could argue with Roy any more, the bartender stepped up. "Hey there! Have you been here before?"

"A time or two," Roy told him.

"Aye. What would you and your _tiny _lass like this evening?"

Ed jerked up and grabbed the bartender by the collar. "WHO ARE YOU CALLIN' A TINY LITTLE GIRL, EH? I'M A GUY. GOT IT? AND DON'T CALL ME SMALL!"

The bartender took a step back with surprise. "Sorry. I wasn't really paying much attention…"

"It's okay." Ed grew calm.

"He didn't mean it," Roy said to the bartender. "Just ignore him."

"I'll make it up to you," he said. "You get free refills on anything."

"Thanks. I'll take whatever you got," said Roy. Ed scolded and out of boredom, rested his chin in his hands.

The bartender chuckled before handing him a large bottle and a glass. "It's the house special for a wonderful discount." Roy took the bottle, filled up the glass, and drank from it. Ed watched with disgust and refused when Roy offered him some. A while later, what Ed had predicted (and possibly feared) came true. The Colonel was drunk as a skunk. When he dizzily sat up from the stool, Ed grabbed his arm. "Hey, where the hell are you going?"

Roy ignored Ed and stumbled onto the stage. He looked at all the people surrounding him as the music conductor walked to him, asking what he'll be singing tonight. Roy gave him a lopsided grin and whispered it in the conductor's ear. The conductor happily nodded and joined his band, which began to play an operatic, bouncy tune. At cue, Roy deliriously began to sing, "_La donna è mobile, qual piuma al vento, muta d'accento e di pensiero. Sempre un amabile leggiadro viso, in pianto o in riso è menzognero. La donna è mobil qual piuma al vento, muta d'accento e di pensier_... (Translation: A woman is fickle like a feather in the breeze, changes her mind at the drop of a hat. Always shows a charming, pretty face, but whether weeping or laughing. She is deceitful. A woman is fickle like a feather in the breeze, changes her mind at the drop of a hat…)"

As he sang, most of the drunken men and some women cheered and joined him in the chorus. However, only a few very elderly women crossed their arms with disparagement. Roy finished, bowed, and was applauded by a large majority of the audience; he stepped off the stage, drunkenly mumbling, "Thank you…thank you…" As he was just getting off to find his way back to where Ed was, suddenly, a very old great-grandmotherly figure furiously whacked him in the face with her handbag cussing in Italian, "Vaffanculo! Ceffo!" Then, she rudely spat at him before disappearing into the crowd. From one of the bars, Ed watched with embarrassment and covered his face with his hand. _Dammit Colonel! I told you not to get drunk…_

The same bartender who they spoke to a while ago walked up to Ed, his face nearly purple with laughter. "Whew! Your buddy sure is something. Only the good ones get a big crowd like that! Here," he said as he gave Ed a bottle like the one Roy had, "I think you need a drink. Enjoy yourself while you can."

Ed frowned. "I might not need it…"

"Do whatever you please." The bartender left on the spot in order to tend to the other customers. Edward sighed as he scanned the bottle in his hand. _I guess a little drink won't hurt. _Then, he pushed the bottle to his lips, allowing the fiery liquid to trickle down his throat.

* * *

In the very back of the bar sat a group of men wearing nice clothing – completely unnecessary for such a place. Either dark brown or black hats covered the upper halves of their stony faces, all except the largest one seated in the middle, whose hat could only cover the very top of his head. His whale-ish figure took claim over the entire chair, and half a cigar covered in slop hung from the side of his mouth, complementing his grimy, narrow teeth. This was the leader. He came simply to enjoy himself while his men did most of the work, but he was watchful of the military – mostly the public. He was satisfied to know he had plenty of men and weapons for the job .On each side of the man sat his two main comrades. Surrounded by them were a carefully selected number of button men chosen by the leader himself.

James, the light brown-haired man seated on the left side of the leader, watched as dark-haired man stepped up on stage and began singing. He leaned over to the leader and whispered, "Does that guy look familiar to you, Boss? He looks like he can get some attention."

The boss squinted his eyes. "I've never seen him before."

Another man, Ciro, who sat on the other side of the boss, said, "You think we should clock him and see what he can do? Looks like a business type of guy to me. Maybe if we can get his contact, we'll have a stronger organization."

They watched the dark haired man sit back to his seat at a bar, next to a blonde who wore leather pants, boots, a track jacket, and had a long braid that fell to the upper back. The boss and his men had a hard time figuring out the gender from the back of the bar, so the boss mumbled, "Look at that goumada he's got there. She's a good-looking one." The other men couldn't tell either, so they nodded their head in agreement. They never did figure out the 'blonde girl' was a boy. In fact, they didn't even suspect her to be a boy. Then, they watched the same dark-haired man engage conversations with other women.

"…Is he a pimp?" James asked.

"He certainly looks like one. Just look at him. There's something about him young women can't resist… I can talk him into joining me with the prostitution business." The boss took the cigar from his mouth and smothered it in the ashtray as if it were a helpless creature.

"What a good idea, Boss," said Ciro.

The boss leaned over to James and whispered, "I want you to talk to them and learn all you can. Then, I want you to follow him until you can get his interest in the business. Deal with him and bring him to the next several meetings I'm holding here. Make him an associate until we can trust him enough." James nervously nodded. "And another thing – I'd like to keep a close watch on that girl. I think I would love to have her for myself," the boss added.

James knew his assignment. He knelt over on one knee, took the boss's hand in his own, and kissed it. "As you wish, Don Garner Colosimo."

"Good," Don Colosimo said as he reached over for another cigar. James left.

* * *

When Mustang came back to where Ed was, Ed grumbled, "I-I'm, uh…drunk…you are too…"

Roy goofily grinned. "I swear to drunk I'm not God." They walked out the door.

"…I'm so sleepy…Will you carry me?"

"Like a baby…" Roy held his arms out. Ed jumped in his arms and they both collapsed. They stood up, leaning on each other for support and left the bar.

That was James's signal… For what seemed like a long time, James crept around behind them, watching them ridiculously waddle all the way to the hotel. After the two in front of him were back to their room, he tipped his hat over his eyes and came up to the receptionist. She looked up from her paperwork with large spectacles and asked, "How may I help you?"

James put his hands in his pockets. "You know that black-haired guy and the short blonde chick who were in here just a second ago, right?"

"Yes. They're staying here, why?"

"It's nothing, just a couple of old friends," James lied. "I wanted to surprise them, but you better not tell."

The receptionist nodded. James suddenly noticed the queer black bird on her shoulder when it started to recite something: "_There was an old woman at Gloster, whose parrot two guineas it cost her; but his tongue never ceasing, was vastly displeasing to that talkative woman of Gloster_."

James ignored the bird, pulled an enveloped card from his pocket, and sat it on the receptionist's desk. "Have this brought straight to him pronto. It's for _his _eyes _only_."

"I will have the butler bring it to them."

"Make sure it reaches him," James said sharply before leaving.

* * *

A/N: If you notice, I'm not favorable of putting young girls/women in my fiction due to my abject resentment toward Mary-Sues, especially if it has something to do with the mafia. Please don't take that as a personal offense. It's strictly a fan-fictional thing that doesn't conclude to real life at all. I'm traumatized from scrolling past all the damn Mary-Sues…

Note: About the Italian cuss words, please please please don't use them even if you are in public. I got in trouble for that once.

There are three different things mafia leaders are known as: boss, don, or chairman.

Clock – to track or take note of someone's comings and goings.

Goumada – slang for "comare", which means "a mistress of a Mafia member".

Button – one who has been sworn in to a crime family.


	4. Business Call

A/N: It is about time I updated. Whoohoo! -dances in circles- By the way, in the episode before Roy goes to the Furher's, if you notice the hat he was wearing, that's the one he wears in this story. I love his hat…maybe I'll borrow it from him when he isn't looking…heh, heh, heh...

* * *

**Ch. 4- Business Call**

* * *

Somewhere else out in a building on the outskirts of South City, Don Colosimo was seated in a velvet red chair surrounded by his closest men, who were placed around the room with automatic guns in hand. They were located in the center of an empty concrete building, in an old dimly lit office. Ciro came into the room. "Don Colosimo." He knelt to kiss the chairman's hand. "I have brought your problem."

"Bring him in."

Ciro ran to get the door. A miserable-looking young man came in the room. The young man was wearing fancy clothing and had glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. His hair was dark and neatly combed. When they stopped in front of the chairman, the young man shakily said, "Y-you shouldn't do this to t-the p-public. I told several men about this…this plan!"

The chairman cleared his throat. "You've been working for us. After all, you _were _on our political contacts. Didn't you swear to us you would work for us in exchange for protection? You betrayed us, Archibald. Not only that, but you have betrayed our omerta, and now, you have to pay the price."

When the man named Archibald heard this, he understood what was going to happen. He ran to the door, gasping, "I-I'm sorry! I'm sorry! P-please let me go! Please!" With a gesture of Don Colosimo's hand, button men guarded the path, lifted their guns, and from all over the room, massacred the young politician with a round of bullets. When they were through, the chairman coldly laughed as he stood up and kicked the corpse out of his way. "Take him to the river. He sleeps with the fishes."

Two other wiseguys nodded before dragging the corpse away, leaving a small trail of blood behind.

* * *

Early in the morning about eight o'clock, the two young men woke up, tangled in a hangover and wearing the same clothes they wore the night before. Ed especially felt heavy all over. He stood up and on the way to the bathroom, he told Roy, "I'm taking a shower. At least I'll feel cleaner."

"Go ahead," said Roy. "I'm in no hurry." He pressed his hand against his face to try to soothe his throbbing headache.

While Ed just got in the shower, the butler, Pierre, came in waving a small enveloped card. "Monsieur Muztang! I'm delivering zis to you."

"Who's it from?" Roy took the card.

Pierre shrugged. "I don't know, but you're breakfazt will be here zoon, Monsieur." He quickly left the room.

Roy observed the envelope and tore it open, taking out a small business card. On the front, it had four numbers printed in the center: 5585, and on the backside, tiny sloppy letters were written: **We saw you at the bar and would like to know if you would help us in our business. Call that number and we'll set a meeting place.**

_This must be something important, but I can't tell if it's what we're looking for…_Roy took a deep breath as he grabbed the phone from the table and dialed the number.

The voice of a man about his age answered, "Hello?"

"This number was delivered to me," Roy said.

"Yes, it was. And I will tell you why. When I saw you in the bar with all those women, including the blonde, I couldn't help but guess you would be useful for the business. My name is James. No need to say yours, Mustang… I think we should meet somewhere in person to discuss it. How does the pizzeria downtown sound? Vitelli's, I think. At ten o'clock?"

"Okay. That sounds good. I'll meet you there." Roy heard the receiver on the other line hang up on his last sentence. As he put the phone down, something the man said brought a twisted smirk of amusement to his face. _The blonde? He means…Edward? Then…they must think he is – a girl! _The more he thought about it, the more Roy's heart laughed. _Ed? A girl? This has got to be good._

Edward himself soon came out of the shower dripping wet with a towel around his waist saying, "They forgot to replace the tow-" But he couldn't finish his sentence. The

look on Roy's face distracted him. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

The older one couldn't hold it in any longer. He just burst out laughing, trying to avoid eye contact with Ed. "They…think you're a girl."

"Who thinks I'm a girl? What the hell are you talking about? Are you still drunk?"

Ed impatiently waited one minute for Roy to stop laughing, and when he did, he showed Ed the card and said, "Let's make this long story short: It was delivered to us…Some businessmen saw us in the bar last night and want me to meet them at the pizzeria." Roy tried hard not to laugh this time. Ed was bathing in his own anger. "I called the number while you were in the shower."

"Why didn't you correct them, _Colonel_?"

"About your gender? …I don't know what kind of businessmen these guys are. If it is what we're looking for, I have two words to say to you, and they are: play along. We don't know who we are going against, so I advise you to stay back for your protection, got it?" Roy said.

Water was still slowly dripping to Ed's feet. "_My_ protection? What about Al? I have to save him!"

"It'll be fine, Edward. Either way, I'm meeting this guy to find out what he wants."

"Tell me everything, promise?" Ed's face stayed red from embarrassment. _Damn. If we find what we're looking for, I'll have to be a girl. _He hoped it would be some regular businessman, but judging by the way Roy put it, it didn't sound like some ordinary business.

"I promise." Roy checked his wristwatch; his face grew disconcerted. "I have to hurry if I'm going to get there on time!" He quickly stripped off all his clothes and opened the suitcase, picking out a white shirt and pants. Then, he slipped them on.

"Hey, Colonel. What am I going to do while you're gone?"

Roy ignored him and said while he rushed to put on his shoes, "Don't leave the apartment." Ed knew it was his stalemate, and he didn't question any more.

As the superior was going out the suite door, Ed called, "Be careful, okay?"

This made Roy grin in return. "Be good, Fullmetal." He pulled the brown hat he was wearing over his eyes and left the hotel.

* * *

Ed was bored in the thirty minutes since Roy left; all he did was sit on the couch in their suite either dreading the thought about being a girl or who the businessmen could be as he munched on the French toast Pierre brought up. Ignoring what Roy told him about staying where he was, Ed climbed down the stairway to the fresh, outside air. The sun was out in the cloudy, humid sky, and the birds were alive as usual. Regardless of the nice day, Ed still felt a twinge of his sickly hangover.

He didn't wander far from the hotel; he only walked down a few blocks, passing a humble-looking old street janitor on the way. But at the farthest block he set foot on, he had no idea what was in store for him.

When he paused at an alleyway to pivot around, he heard footsteps, and before he knew it, several brutish thugs were pouncing on him, gripping on all four limbs. Ed was taken by surprise, and yelled, "Hey! What the hell are you doing?" He wriggled in their grasp. "Let me go! You better let me go or you'll get the ass beating of your life!" The men were too strong, not to mention they outnumbered him. They dragged Ed up a flight of metal stairs to a darkened apartment, at the same time beat him to keep him from moving.

A regular-sized long haired man emerged from the back of the room. He put his hand over Ed's mouth and gave him a dirty grin. "This won't take long, Dollface. I know you're one of his prostitutes." Ed watched with horror as the other men held his limbs hard on the floor as the thug pressed a knife to the boy's neck. "Do not make a move!" The thug's other hand slowly undid Edward's belt and began lowering his pants (they slightly ripped). Ed tried his best to fight back, and before he was exposed, gunshots were heard, and the men forcing Ed onto the rough carpet all collapsed. The long-haired man quickly turned around, sweat pouring down his face.

Standing in the lit doorway was an old man wearing a paperboy cap and a vest, in his hand was a .22 revolver. Ed recognized him as the janitor he passed a little while ago. The elder had strong, unforgettably kind, yet dangerously sane facial features; his mouth was curled into an arch as his eyes held tight focus on the thug towering over Edward.

"W-who are you?" the thug asked, shocked to the brink of insanity as he watched his other men killed before his eyes.

"Your worst nightmare," the old man answered. He cocked his gun and sent a final bullet, which darted into the thug's chest. Ed quickly rolled out of the way, where the thug landed hard on the floor with a loud _thud_. The janitor stashed his gun into his vest and started to help Ed up. "Dear heavens! Are you okay?"

"I'm…fine," Ed mumbled as he stared around with awe, tears in his eyes.

The old man shot him a satisfied grin to kudo his health, but his face grew stern when he said, "Be more careful in the future. This city and country will be getting worse soon, and we're trying our best to stop it."

Troubled by his surroundings, Ed observed all the dead men at his feet with fear. "Tell me you just didn't kill all those men. Who the hell are you?" When Ed looked up expecting to find the old man, he saw nothing. It was as if the old man wasn't there in the first place.

His fingers were clumsy at succeeding to put his pants and belt back in place, and he ran out of the apartment like a scared child.

* * *

Roy expectantly waited at the pizzeria for the man who he had talked to earlier for about ten minutes. A man with light brown hair, a stony face, and a black hat soon came inside and found a seat across from Roy.

"You're here early. We like that," the man commented.

"The name is James, right?" Roy asked.

"Yes. But you may call me 'Lefty'."

"So, Lefty, what is this _business _you are talking about? Why would a guy like me in a karaoke bar catch interest in business?" _Act casual, Roy…_he told himself.

James chuckled. "Simple, you know about gambling, prostitution, those things, right? That's what we're asking for. With all those women, Mustang, you can become rich overnight and sky-rocket the business."

"You're asking me to join your prostitution business? Okay. I think we can do that." _You are doing just fine. Keep casual._

"Good. And remember, this between you and I," James added.

"Are there certain things I have to do?" Roy asked suspiciously.

"As long as you start as an associate, everything will be smooth. Take a few steps after that, and we might let you sign the omerta, if you prove worthy."

Roy, afraid to refuse the offer, nodded. "Where do I start?"

"You start with the little things and stick with me for awhile until the boss is ready to meet you. I can get you started over the next couple of weeks."

"I appreciate your help," Roy lied.

For a brief moment of nervous silence, he and James stopped to take a couple swallows of coffee until James interrupted, "By the way, who's that gorgeous shorty you were with? Is that your goumada?"

Roy grinned at the idea of Ed being his mafia mistress. "Yes," he played along. "She's young and wild. And likes to wear those tight leather pants."

"Can you get her to join the business? Young people like her these days have a greater interest in becoming prostitutes, and she'll have a use for that body of hers."

"Sure. In fact, I can convince her to do anything I want her to."

"That's the spirit." James pulled a cigar out of his pocket and lit it. He offered Roy one, but Roy simply refused and lied again, careful not to offend the mobster, "No thanks. I got hooked on those years ago. It took me forever to quit."

"Ah, I see," James said as he tucked it back into his coat pocket. Ten minutes later, they both stood up to leave. Before Roy headed back to the hotel, James added, "Meet me here at the same place at the same time tomorrow, and I can arrange some things and outfits for that 'blondie' of yours."

"Good deal," he said. When they both went their separate ways, Roy heaved a sigh, glad that he didn't push any buttons and glad to have made it out without suspicion. _I have to be careful if I want to get back alive._

* * *

Meanwhile, at the Ishbalan camps, Scar stumbled back into one of the tents covered in a mixture sweat and dirt. "I'm back."

An old man stood up, along with the village doctor. He said to Scar, "I'm glad you've returned, for we have very important information to share with you."

"What is it? Is something wrong?"

The elder's face turned grave, "Some of our people here have been kidnapped. Edward Elric and another man have come to me looking for you. He says his brother, Alphonse, has been kidnapped. They tell me it's the work of a powerful crime organization."

"Kidnapped? Alphonse was kidnapped?" Scar's fists tightened. "I don't see how that could be…" He simmered with anger. "Please tell me every detail."

"Edward Elric asks for your help in rescuing his brother and some of our people, who also have been kidnapped. He says he would really appreciate it if you helped."

Scar knew this was something Ed would never lie about, and it was necessary to rescue his own people. His choice was made. _I'll do it for Alphonse. I would have done so without their appeal. _He firmly held his right arm. "Where did they go?"

"They didn't say."

"Then I'll have to find Alphonse Elric on my own, with this arm."

The village doctor gently put a hand on Scar's shoulder and said, "It would be best that you restore your energy first. Have your rest before you plan on taking on a big task."

* * *

Quickly and quietly, Ed wasn't tense enough to not be able to make his way back to the hotel, but he was so shaken by everything that's happened, it's forced him to lie on the couch. Butterflies rolled around in his stomach, and his restlessness came close to losing control until he heard Roy coming in. "Fullmetal?" he called. "I'm back."

Ed sat up straight and saw Roy standing in the doorway. When Roy saw his haggard expression and timid movement, he raised an eyebrow and asked, "Is something wrong?"

"No. Nothing. Nothing is wrong," the fifteen-year-old lied. He swallowed.

"You're acting awfully strange," Roy remarked as he circled around Ed. "Are you sure something isn't bothering you?"

"I'm sure, okay?" Ed snapped.

"Then what is that rip on your pants?"

"I accidentally snagged it on a piece of furniture, alright? It's nothing to worry about. I can have it fixed," Ed lied once more.

"Hmm...I had no idea that furniture could do something as big as that…"

"Stop it already!" He could tell Roy knew something was going on, but was glad when Roy didn't chose to question him any further.

Roy took off his hat and rested it on the foot of the bed. "You wanted me to tell you everything?"

"Yeah."

"It looks like we found exactly what we're looking for."

* * *

A/N: Feel free to review.

Note: Omerta is the code or "law" of silence sworn to by any member of the Mafia, upon penalty of death. It's a loyalty process. Traditionally, a ceremony or ritual of it is performed as a signature of the omerta, but I'll get into the details about that later…


	5. Never Let Me Down

A/N: Even if there are alcohol and smoking references (or all the other bad references in this story), just know that I'm not trying to promote anything. So please, don't smoke because you read this story. I think the tobbacco peeps are getting too rich, because my grandpa smokes enough cigarettes a day for three people, and worse, one of my great grannies smokes enough for four people. lol.

* * *

**Ch. 5- Never Let Me Down**

* * *

Ed gaped open-mouthed when he heard everything Roy told him about the meeting. "What the hell do you mean I have to be your prostitute? I can't just sleep with other men for money! It's not right! Isn't there a way around?" He was losing his temper. "Please, Colonel! Help me here, dammit!"

"Possibly," Roy casually answered. "You can dress like a whore and knock the men out when they're not looking. That's all I can think of… The mafia is uptight, especially when it comes to what they call an 'omerta'. It's best that we keep our mouth shut until we can earn their trust and find out where they keep the hostages. That is the only way."

"Can we just beat the answer out of them?"

Roy shook his head. "There are too many. Besides, once the hostages are released, we can get back-up."

"Dammit! We have to take the long way!"

"A couple months won't hurt."

"But I'll be stuck with you!"

Roy smirked. "And I can do whatever I want, so I'd advise to keep _your_ mouth shut, squirt," he joked.

"Keep your damn comments to yourself, you sadistic bastard…" Ed crossed his arms, daring Roy to say something. But Roy remained quiet. There was no need to retort, because his silence was threatening enough. Ed was more familiar with this than anyone, so he changed the subject, "When do you have to meet this Lefty guy?"

"Tomorrow. Same place, same time." He slid off his jacket and sat down on the couch. "So, Fullmetal, what did you do while I was gone? You seem a little ill…"

Ed tried his best not to think of his near-rape experience, but a look on his face made Roy raise his eyebrows. To cut the rest of the story out, he said three words: "I was bored."

"Why don't you tell me about it in detail?"

"Because. There is no detail. Just forget about my day, okay?"

"Fine. We'll forget about your day, but I know there's something you aren't telling me. I consider that a lie." Roy continued to eye him suspiciously. "And I _hate _it when somebody lies to me."

Ed refused to tell him anything, and after awhile, Roy gave it up. "Why don't we go out for lunch and get out of this place?" Roy said as he stood up. "I'm pretty sure you can't stand being trapped in here all day."

"That'll be good." Ed left his red coat in the room and followed Roy out the hotel, and once again, into the street. They found a small café not to far from the place they were staying, and sat there, waiting for their orders. Even though there wasn't very many people in the café, some of the ones who were had also been in the bar the night before; they eyed Roy with amusement before turning back to their own business. The looks they gave slightly embarrassed Ed, who pondered on how Roy could possibly be the same man who got drunk and sang opera the night before. And worse, Ed's headache from the hangover continued to linger.

After a long silence between the two, Roy softly said, "I'm sorry about what you have to put up with – having to disguise yourself as a girl, and worse, a prostitute."

"No problem, Colonel," Ed sarcastically muttered. "Too bad you never had to do this… Yeah. You definitely owe me one once things get back to normal. Make it good, because I know I'm already gonna be scarred for life."

Roy smiled. "Good," he said out of the merriment of sarcasm. Ed couldn't help but smile, either, even though he was haunted by what happened when Roy was gone. The thought of nearly getting raped made him shudder. Who was that strange old man who saved him? How could somebody wield a gun so well? Shocked as Ed was from the entire incident, he could only hope of finding out more.

The rest of the day was a simple, boring routine; after the café, they returned to the hotel, only to find Flug recite another one of his whimsical lines. Roy read the newspaper and Ed slept on the couch, for the rest of the day, doing nothing. Ed found he hated this routine, especially being stuck with the Colonel in such a space. However, he grew to enjoy his company, glad from being alone in the pit of helplessness. There was something about Roy which Ed secretly admired. It's one of those things you can't lay your finger on.

The next morning, Roy was up and dressed pretty quickly, most likely because he was anxious to meet James in the pizzeria once again. Ed was just getting roused out of bed at the time when he heard Roy say, "Don't go anywhere. Stay in this hotel. I'll be back in a little while."

"I won't," Ed grumbled as he tossed out of the bed in his boxers; he rummaged through his suitcase, roughly picking out a pair of everyday black leather pants, a tank, and a track jacket. As he dressed, he heard Roy leaving. Ed sighed as he dreaded staying inside with the eccentric staff (and Flug), yet he dreaded the thought of what might happen if he were in the street. _Today I'll just have to stay inside, _he decided.

Soon, the butler who called himself Pierre came in with the large black crow perched on his shoulder. The crow squawked before saying: "_There was an Old woman of Leith, who had a sad pain in her teeth, but the blacksmith uncouth, scar'd the pain from her tooth; which rejoic'd the Old Woman of Leith._"

"Does that bird ever shut up?" Ed asked irritably.

Pierre shrugged. "How am I zuppozed to know zat? He juzt keepz talking zand talking." The butler smiled before pulling a cracker out of his pocket and feeding it to the bird. "Oh! I'm terribly zorry! I forgot to give you zis!" He handed a tray to Edward.

Ed dumbly stared at all the tray's sweet-smelling contents. "Um…thanks?" he said blankly.

"No problem." Pierre bowed before exiting the room. Left alone, Ed observed the food on the tray, trying to decide whether or not if it's okay to eat.

* * *

At the pizzeria, Roy Mustang met James as planned. Once they were both seated, James lit a cigar and made quite a sudden start of a proposal. "Listen, I need to know if you're fit enough for this job," he said. "That's why I'm the one discussing this with you…" He paused for a puff of smoke before continuing. "You have to be fit for an omerta. Let's say…right now you're an associate, if that's the way you'd put it. But once you sign the omerta, you're with the big boys. Do you catch my drift?"

"Yeah," Roy said. "So I'm an associate?"

"You can say that," replied Lefty. "Even though you haven't been sworn in, remember, you can still be a pimp. That's the upside to the prostitution business."

"What's the downside?" Roy asked, trying to sound at least somewhat enthusiastic about the strange form of business.

"The downside? …You gotta give the boss a cut of the beef. Know what I'm saying?"

"I know exactly what you mean."

"Good. Though with you're rank, it's least likely you'll get to see the boss as much in person. If you do get to see the boss in person, you have to be at your best. Or pow. You're dead." James paused to let out a cloud of smoke, his cigar loosely dangling between his thumb and index finger.

Roy felt a small sickening chill crawl up his spine when he heard Lefty's odd use of words. It made him wonder if all the men in that mafia talked like that. "Tell me, where do I start the business?"

"I'm sure you'll need the material first, eh?" James stuck the cigar back into his mouth.

"Material?" Roy asked, trying not to sound so green.

"Yeah, uh, you know. Seductive clothing for the girl. Helps the business. And when you get a good business, soon, you'll be wearing suits worth ten thousand sens. But, under one condition – you pay the boss five thousand sens a week."

Roy's voice slightly cracked, "I can do that."

James grinned. "You're type that's easy to deal with, and we like that. Just wait till the boss hears. He'll be eager to meet you." He rolled the damp, slobbed cigar between his fingers before smashing it in the ashtray.

"Where do I find the right clothing?"

"No need to. It's all right outside in my trunk, an entire wardrobe. I felt a little merciful and decided to give our new young pimp a break," James said, implying Roy, although there really was no need to.

"Thanks," Roy said. "I'm sure the girl would like it too." He tried his best to sound as casual as he could, but it was hard to think of Ed and say "girl" at the same time. "Are there other pimps and whores in the business?"

"Not very many. It's hard to come by the really good ones."

"Are the others around?"

"No. They're somewhere else." James didn't say anything else about the others; and Roy somehow knew that it wasn't the right time to ask.

After another hour and a half discussing the business and what to do and where, James stood up; Roy followed him to where a black car was parked. The mobster opened the trunk (which was large for such a normal car) and pulled out several bags containing cheap, bright, kinky clothing which filled the bags up to their rims. When Roy imagined what the look on Ed's face would be or how Ed would wear them, he didn't know whether to laugh or cry with joy….Or both.

As soon as Roy took all the bags, James shut the trunk and offered Roy a ride back to the hotel. Careful not to offend his host, Roy got into the car, letting the Lefty drive him back to where he and Ed were staying. The drive wasn't very far, and as soon as Roy got out, the mobster had already left.

* * *

After hours of being bored and taking sickly naps, Ed finally heard Roy unlocking the door. A moment later, Roy was inside the suite, holding several large bags in each hand. "I'm back," Roy called out.

"I see that," Ed mumbled. His eyes wandered to the bags. "What are those? Guns?"

A nice long smirk spread like butter across the Colonel's face. "Why don't you see for yourself?"

Ed angrily leapt toward the bags and pulled out what looked like a lace thong. He sat there, brimming with anger. "I'm. Not. Wearing. This. Shit. Period!" he said as his teeth grit together only in a manner of disgust.

"Well don't look at me. After all, you're the one who's playing a prostitute. At least dress like one."

The blonde completely ignored Roy and emptied the rest of the bags, furiously hurling the rest of the clothing at him. After a pitching a short and terrible tantrum, Ed, whose face was completely red, fell to the floor to catch his breath. Roy knelt down close beside him and reached his hand out, but Ed slapped it away, yelling, "What the hell do you want?"

"Take a deep breath and calm down, Edward," Roy said gently. He firmly placed his hands on both of Ed's shoulders. "I'm not making you wear them. But it would really help me out here. We're in a tight spot."

"What are you talking about?"

"We have to pay the boss at least five thousand sens a week or we won't get anywhere. Please, let me explain."

"Okay."

Roy stood up and leaned against the side of the couch. He told Ed everything that he and James talked about. "So you see, Ed, we have to hurry up and find a way to get this done, no matter what the cost. It's your decision whether to wear the clothes or not."

Ed didn't say anything about the clothes. In fact, he didn't even want to think about them. And so fourth, the topic was tossed and abandoned in midair for the time being. He and Roy went out for lunch once again, but they refrained from talking to each other. It was this way for the rest of the day; only few exchanged words were muttered. The day seemed to pass by a little quicker than the rest, due to the fact that both Ed and Roy seemed to be absorbed in their own thoughts.

By nightfall, Ed was already in bed with nothing less than a pair of light blue boxers on, covered with the freshly laundered sheets and a blanket, facing the opposite direction of Roy, who had just changed and was getting ready to get in. Just as he had gotten in and turned the lamp off, he heard the sound of Ed's breathing quiver. "Edward? Are you still awake?" he asked, curious if Ed was really crying.

The fifteen-year-old didn't really give an answer; the tremble in his breath worsened, which gave Roy the indication that he was awake.

He asked, "Edward, what's wrong?"

Ed's crying resumed without an answer. Roy then wrapped both his arms around him and moved in closer, to where Ed could feel his breath treading against the back of his neck. "If something's bothering you, tell me right now," Roy said. "I order you."

"…Remember when you went out yesterday?"

"Yes."

"…I didn't listen…I went outside…These men, they took me…to an apartment. I couldn't do anything. They thought I was one of someone's prostitutes…And they tried to undo my pants…"

Roy grew silent for a moment. After a time of silence, Roy asked, "What else?" Ed could tell he was growing angry.

"…This old man showed up and shot all of the men who were trying to take advantage of me right before my eyes…He fled before I could find out who he really was…"

This time, Roy stayed silent.

Ed continued to sob as quiet as he could, though he did a bad job of retaining it. "Colonel, I-I'm s-sorry...really…"

The Colonel's arms stayed wrapped around Ed; he buried his nose in Ed's thick golden blonde hair and muttered, "Just be glad that it wasn't what it could have been." The younger State Alchemist could feel how angry Roy was, though Roy didn't show it.

"I'm sorry," Ed apologized again. "I shouldn't have gone out."

"You are okay, aren't you? Is there anything else?"

"No. I'm okay. Just forget it. I'm not crying." Ed wiped the tears away with his hand and slowly drifted into sleep.

Roy Mustang knew Ed was really crying and also knew that Ed wouldn't want to admit it. He didn't say anything else or show any sign of anger disapproving of what Ed did, but stayed right where he was, a warm and growing quaint feeling welling in his chest, despite what dreadful things were soon to come.

* * *

A/N: Aww…how sweet. I hope I didn't make things go too fast, because I tend to do that sometimes. Please let me know if I made it go too fast. Other than that, feel free to review.

Note: Associate- one who works for the mafia but who may not be "made" or sworn in by the omerta.

About the structure of the mafia, I will get into more detail about it later. Normally, the structure depends on what kind of mafia it is. The Italian mafia's backbone is the omerta and the Cosa Nostra, which means "this thing of ours", though like I said. A lot of mafias are differently built. There'll be more detail about the several different mafia structures in this story. Every structure is a little different that the other.

Sorry if I scared you all about my knowledge of such things. It's hard for an artist like myself to resist. -sweat drop- Heh, heh...


	6. Only One Problem is Solved

A/N: Well, here comes another chapter. Sorry if I've been slow. So much has been happening lately.

* * *

**Ch.6- Only One Problem is Solved**

* * *

Ed wasn't thoroughly awake when he heard a strange scratching noise at the very end of the bed. He knew it couldn't have been Roy, because Roy was beside him asleep, so the next person he figured was Butler Pierre, and grumpily shouted, "What the hell are you doing in here?"

The scratching noises stopped, and he heard something reply, "_Hurry up and show me some action!_"

This wasn't the sound of Pierre's voice, but it was that of Flug's. Ed was quickly awakened, and he took his pillow and threw it at the bird, but the bird dodged the blow, landing on the opposite post. Roy was irritably wakened by all the movement, and Ed heard him curse under his breath before asking, "Fullmetal, what you up doing this early? I was trying to fit in fifteen more minutes of sleep!"

"Well I was too until this damn bird had to come in!"

Roy's eyes wandered to the big black bird on the bedpost. Flug squawked, "_Action! Sex! I want to see it now!_" The Colonel's face grew sour. He got out of the bed saying, "I'll take care of this problem…" He pulled on his gloves and snapped his fingers; before the bird could figure out what was going on, he was already yelping for mercy, bouncing out of the room at the same time.

"Um…thanks…" Ed mumbled.

"It's nothing," Roy said, flashing Ed his regular smirky grin. "I'm sure that bird won't be coming up here soon." He sat at the side of the bed, rummaging for clothes in his suitcase.

While the Colonel was doing so, Ed quietly said, "…Listen, I was probably being a real jerk earlier yesterday…To make it up to you, I've decided that I will wear those clothes…no matter how much I hate them…"

Distracted by Ed's change, Roy turned around. "I'm sure you have a reason. Is that an apology?"

"No. I'm doing this for Al. You said this is the only way I have, right? It's decided. I'll wear those clothes, but only if I have to wear them in front of the guys who gave them to you."

Roy finished picking out his clothes, piling them in his arms as he sighed. "Fullmetal, you know that I won't let anyone _actually_ sleep with you, don't you?"

"Yeah. I know you're too possessive of me." Ed joked, although knew he wouldn't ever let him sleep with anyone for money in a million years, but the very thought of him being a prostitute left a terrible aftertaste in his mouth and butterflies in his stomach.

"We'll find a perfect way to bluff."

"Okay. What do I do today?"

"Stay here. When I'm done talking to Lefty, I'll come back and pick you up. That's when we'll start…" Roy began changing clothes.

Ed took a deep, nervous breath of air; he got off the bed and flipped through one of the bags which contained the kinky clothing, pulling every single outfit out of the bag, then laying it on the bed. "If I'm going to wear this," he said, "I need it to cover my automail."

"Do you have plenty of clothing for that?" Roy said while straightening his tie.

"I think so." Ed pulled out a several clothes from the pile, observing its strange lacy texture. After looking at several bizarre-looking pairs of underwear, Ed grabbed a small red thong and meekly asked, "How am I supposed to wear this?"

Roy couldn't resist but to allow himself to let out a small bark of laughter. "Use your imagination."

Ed frowned. "Whatever." He flung the pair back into the pile. "How long are you going to be gone?"

"Enough to get some more information," Roy said, almost in a sarcastic manner. "I'm going. And I trust that you'll stay here."

"Yeah. See ya Colonel." Ed watched Roy leave; soon afterwards, Pierre came upstairs to offer Ed a plate of breakfast.

"Today, zis ez zee special." He handed Ed the tray which contained a reasonably large amount of grapes and strawberries, along with bacon and pancakes – food which wasn't so foreign in the country of Amestris; Ed was glad to see something he could actually identify without questioning any of the staff. The butler didn't even seem to notice what had happened to Flug, and so he soon left, leaving the young State Alchemist alone.

As he went through the big pile of clothing once again, Ed sighed, hoping that if he did wear this clothing, it wouldn't be for long. It made him think of what he could do to foil the customers and make money at the same time, but the very idea seemed impossible unless he had Roy's help…The most dreadful ideas came to him. But what if Roy wasn't there? What if there was a whole gang of men coming in with guns, leaving Ed a useless sex toy? Worse, he thought of Al, if he would be able to get to him in time before the mob decides to crush his blood seal. There's only one problem: nobody knows which mob it could be. Roy would have to gain enough trust with the boss of this crew in order to meet the many other chairmen in the country.

And the very last, less-dreadful trivial question suddenly hit him: How will he pull off looking like a girl in person if he didn't have breasts?

_Breasts…_ Ed thought to himself, _I wonder how the hell I can pull that off?_

He decided to wait and ask Roy when he comes back. Frustrated, he tried on several of the outfits, took them off, and ate breakfast in order to pass the time.

* * *

The third meeting was brief; Roy met James at the pizzeria like the first two, except this time, James quickly handed him a paper with an address written down – where Roy would take Ed to start the job. After giving away the paper, he said, "I have a busy schedule and won't be able to meet you for the next two days. If you do well on the first several days, we will put you on our meeting list and take you with us to places. Do we have a deal?"

"Deal." Both Roy and the mobster shook hands to seal it. "And one more thing before we leave," Roy added.

"Yes?"

He took a breath of air and slowly stated, "My goumada, she has automail…"

For a moment, Lefty's face didn't show any sign of emotion until he gave Roy a small grin. "That's fine. I've heard about plenty of men who may like your goumada and her automail. It will make your job easier."

Roy's chest slightly lifted with a sense of relief; soon after, Lefty drove him back to the hotel and left like the day before.

When Roy was back inside he and Ed's suite, Ed wasn't in the room. "Ed? Where are you?"

He heard a voice reply from the bathroom, "I'm in here!"

"What're you doing?"

The door opened. Ed came out wearing bright red prostitute clothing, as if he was trying to hide the automail, and with a frown on his face; Roy tried his best not to laugh at the sight. If he were still back in his office back in Eastern Command, he would have never expected this. "You look great, Fullmetal," he couldn't help but to say. He almost cried with merriment.

Ed's frown grew deeper, and his face grew a darker shade of red than it already was. "Thanks for the compliment, Colonel! …What about breasts?"

"That's easy. Pudding balloons."

"Pudding balloons?"

"You fill up balloons with pudding and stuff them in a bra."

"Where are we going to get balloons and vanilla pudding?" Ed asked, looking at Roy with bewilderment. "And where the hell did you get that idea anyway?"

"Take a look around, Fullmetal. Girls all around you are doing it to enhance their chest."

"Well I don't spend my time looking at chests!"

"We will go out and buy some balloons and pudding."

"Are you crazy? What am I supposed to do while _we_ go out and buy those things? And how am I supposed to completely hide my automail without anyone noticing?"

"Listen, Ed. I told him you had automail. That's not a problem anymore."

"You what?"

"He said it'll be fine and more sufficient for the job."

Ed put his hand against his forehead and sat down on the couch. "Okay…I don't have to cover my automail? Sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. All you have to worry about now are getting breasts. It's an easy trip to the department store downtown," Roy replied.

"I am not going out in public looking like _this_!"

"Then I'll get it. You stay here."

"Fine." Ed crossed his arms.

Roy Mustang grabbed his jacket, and headed out the suite as he said, "I'll be right back." He quickly closed the door behind him, leaving Ed all by himself for a little while.

After minutes of walking fast past the alleyways, junk shops, and restaurants, Roy finally spotted a small grocery and department store. He went inside and briskly surveyed the isles and eventually grabbed a small pack of clear water balloons, a funnel and two boxes of instant vanilla pudding, just in case. The young cashier looked confused at the strange assortment, but continued to bag the items as Roy paid. Once he received the bag with all the things inside, he quickly walked out of the store and headed straight to the hotel where Ed was waiting.

When he did return, he headed straight for the bathroom, filled the coffee pot with pudding mix and water and thoroughly stirred for awhile. Ed watched as he did so, stooping in the doorway with his arms crossed. As soon as the pudding was complete, Roy pulled two balloons from the pack, each at a time, filling them up using the funnel. When he finished filling and tying both balloons, he washed the excess pudding from the sink and his hands, held both balloons up, and with his smirky grin, addressed Ed, "This is what you'll wear, Fullmetal."

The younger State Alchemist took a small step backward. "You've gotta be kidding me!"

"I thought we agreed on this?"

"We did. Just don't look at me like that, you lucky bastard." Ed took both balloons from Roy's hands. "Do I have to wear them now?"

"Yes. We're leaving in a couple seconds."

He walked back to the bedroom where all the clothes were piled up on the bed, took off the ones that covered his automail, and ended up changing into fishnet stalkings, a short red skirt, a mesh spaghetti strap top, high heeled boots (which were very uncomfortable by the way), and a lace bra where the balloons took their course in filling the cup. Ed was quite surprised how they were able to look and fit so realistically.

A moment later, Roy came into the room. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah," Ed's voice nervously cracked.

* * *

A/N: Next chapter, what is Ed to do to fool the men paying him? What does Roy plan on doing to stop prostitution before it happens? …Feel free to review.

Note: Pudding balloons really do work of you know how to make them right. I've seen it done before.


	7. The Uninvited Guest

A/N: In last chapter, you found out how Ed can pull off breasts. It was one of my friends who tried the balloon trick. Enough of that. This chapter has bigger fish to fry.

A/N 2: To let you know ahead of time, the new character in this chapter is not a Gary-Stew at all. Just think of him as a guy who guides and helps brief Ed and Roy about the underworld called the Mafia to keep the two from getting lost. Lol. I thought the name suited the character too…

* * *

**Ch. 7- The Uninvited Guest**

* * *

Covered with goosebumps and sweat, Ed waited in the car for several minutes for Roy to return from the place where he was supposed to rent out in order to start business – as a way which Lefty puts it. In reality, he was getting ready to perform a false job of prostitution, which was nearly impossible unless Roy had something helpful up his sleeve. Ed had a rough time trying to figure out if he was prepared for him to do so, or if he was doing this as he went. But he also realized that Roy always held the ability to perform last-minute tasks successfully without most people realizing, and knowing this, he kept his hopes up.

The darker-haired man returned soon after with a somewhat quiet expression on his face and a bag with a key in his hand. As Ed was about to open the door, Roy signaled not to, then he got in on the driver's side for a brief moment and shut the door. He said to his subordinate, "We're going to have to think fast. Just go along."

"Huh? What? What are you talking about?" Ed suddenly appeared glazed.

"Just go along." Roy pulled a bottle of liquor from the bag and shoved it in Ed's arms along with the key. "Keep them as drunk as you can. And don't forget to take their money while you're at it. I'll make sure nothing happens... Look, I don't have much time to explain. Just hurry up and get in the room. You'll be fine."

Ed froze. "But-"

Roy gave him a slight push. "Just go already before the owners get suspicious…Be careful, Edward."

"All right, all right…" Ed mumbled as he stumbled out of the car with the liquor and key in one hand, "I'm going already!" He walked up the metal stairs slowly…each step at a time… His right leg felt as if it was going to collapse into jello at any moment, and his left leg couldn't have gotten any stiffer than it already was. The young State Alchemist found himself meekly standing before a white door fumbling for the key. The door unlocked, and he went inside the apartment.

Clearly, it wasn't the most expensive apartment, nor was it the cheapest. The place contained basic necessities to give it a lived-in atmosphere along with a small kitchen and a large bed. Ed felt very sick to his stomach by every glance he took of the bed…or maybe it was also the uncomfortable clothing he was wearing.

As he was about to have a seat and ponder out a quick plan, the door abruptly began to knock; Ed stood up as straight as he could to avoid the feeling of anxiety tingling along his entire body, and eventually, stood up to open the door.

Standing in the doorway was a strange sort of young gentleman, stout, and no taller than Ed himself, wearing a pair of pinstripe trousers, a sleek black jacket, sunglasses, and a pinstripe fedora that covered his short blonde hair and the upper half of his heart-shaped face. He appeared to be around Ed's age, yet had a strange air of maturity about him which really stood out.

Ed stood there quietly, eyeing the odd guest with curiosity, wondering if he were to drunken easily. However, the odd guest spoke before Ed received a chance to say anything.

"Well, aren't you going to let me in?" he asked. There was also a slight accent to him Ed has never heard before.

"Um…yeah. Sorry," Ed mumbled in the most feminine voice he could as he stood out of the way to let the boy in. "Would you like anything to drink?"

"No." The boy shut the door behind him, locked it, took off his hat along with the pair of sunglasses, and rested them on the hall table. Ed also noticed that his eyes appeared to have a strong resemblance to moonstone, and his face revealed five minor scars. "That's not what I'm here for," the boy said again. "I forgot to introduce myself, didn't I? The name is Shawn."

"Okay, Shawn..." Ed quietly said. "What would you like?"

Shawn lounged in a nearby chair, wedging his feet on the glass table. "Nothing really…I was interested in what Colosimo was plotting next. But when I heard of his new associate and you, I decided I'd take a look myself." He took an apple from the fruit bowl and wiped it off using his jacket. "Nice automail."

The room grew silent for a moment, and Ed took a seat near him. He awkwardly asked, "Do you work for Colosimo? What do you do?"

"No. I don't. We're a different borgata. Besides, I'm sure that my grandfather, who is the head of our borgata, wouldn't be so glad to join Colosimo's. Long story. I just officially joined the mafia." Shawn idly smiled and raised his right hand, which revealed his very neatly bandaged index finger.

"Is that the…omerta? How do you sign it?" Ed asked, taken by curiosity.

"It's the law of silence and the code of honor. You swear loyalty into the family. To make it short, basically what you do in the ritual is cut your trigger finger and let the blood run on a saint figure, usually made of paper. Then the boss lights the figure and all that other crud...You'll eventually get it." Shawn put the apple to his mouth and began to chew it, as if he was taking a casual break.

Ed wondered what all he did to get into the mafia before he signed. He seemed to be really friendly, which made him wonder even more. As Shawn ate, Ed commented, "This is one strange city…Are there always that many rapists on the street?"

Shawn abruptly coughed and spat out small bits of chewed apple. He spattered, "Hell no! Ever since Colosimo came, things around here have become more dangerous, especially in the streets."

"…Some old guy saved me from a group of them. He shot every single one of them though. I'd like to know if you have any idea who he is."

"Good with the gun, eh? That would be Uncle Leon. So you're that guy he's been telling us about?" He managed to stifle a laugh.

Ed flushed, his face beet red. "How did you know?" He suddenly tried to cover up all the clothes he was wearing.

"Hey relax. I won't tell if you won't tell. Besides, Colosimo has bad eyes. If I were in your shoes, as ruthless as he is, I would also be wearing those clothes. Don't stress. Just lay low for awhile, play along, and try not to piss him off. After all, that's all you can do for the time being…"

"I hate wearing these clothes. I wish I could find some way to avoid it…" Ed wanted to shudder at the next sentence. "…I also wish that I didn't have to be a prostitute for him."

After hearing this, Shawn flipped out a wallet from his vest pocket and asked, "How much is the don asking for?"

"Five thousand sens," Ed replied.

"Here," Shawn said as he handed Ed a bill worth five thousand sens, "this should cover you for about a week."

"Why are you doing this?" asked Ed, feeling guilty about taking the money.

"It's nothing. Just trying to give a guy a break, that's all." He put the wallet back into his pocket before displaying a sly grin. "Besides, there's plenty more where that came from…wait. Aren't you supposed to have a pimp?"

"He's waiting for me."

"You didn't just pick him off the street did you?"

"No. I've known him for years, and he's not really my pimp."

Shawn gave Ed both a suspicious, yet particular look. "Why did you get involved with the mafia?"

Ed could feel his heart pounding through his chest. "…We-we got caught up in the wrong thing at the wrong time," he lied.

"I understand." Shawn relaxed a little, though his eyes were still calculating. "That's happened plenty a time before." He stood up, headed for the door as he grabbed his fedora and sunglasses. "Well, I've got some errands to run for gramps. I'll come back next week to give you the rest of Colosimo's cash. Be sure to let your "pimp" know about what all is going on too."

"All right," Ed replied, "just be careful or whatever."

While Shawn was going out the door, he lightly commented as it trailed off at the end of the sentence, "I'd hate to admit it, but with all that clothing on, you had me fooled; you really do look like a pretty girl…"

_Pretty girl my ass! _Ed thought as he watched Shawn leave. _What's his deal anyway?_

When he made sure that the mysterious guest was out of sight, Ed locked the apartment door, went downstairs and around the building, where Roy was waiting on him. Ed noticed how Roy's face had a cold, faded red tint to it, not to mention that his eyes were a little puffy, maybe wet. _Was he this worried all along?_

Roy took a solemn hold to Ed's arm, shakily asking, "Are you all right, Edward? Tell me that nothing happened…I must know."

"Nothing happened. Believe me, Colonel." Ed pulled the five thousand sens from his pocket and put them in Roy's hand. "Some guy stopped by, but he didn't want anything. I don't know why…It's hard to explain, but he knew I was dressing like this, and gave me this so that I won't have to go through the trouble, so I took it."

"He didn't do anything to you, did he?"

"No. He told me his name was Shawn and that he and his family or whatever-they-call-them were against Colosimo and the bad things he's been rousing in this country. He's coming back next week – it's okay if you come too."

"Of course I'm coming," Roy said with a gentle smile. "Now that one of the harder obstacles is out of the way, let's go and recollect ourselves. I'm starting to forget what the office life is like."

Ed smiled back as they walked to the car. "That's a good thing, Colonel. Now you know what I've been stuck with for all these years."

* * *

A/N: It was about time to update. Feel free to review.


	8. Consideration

A/N: At the very first part of the chapter, when Shawn says, "Plummy and slam", just to let you know, that came from Charles Dickens's book Oliver Twist. All due disclaimers.

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**Ch. 8 – Consideration**

Shawn got out of the car and made his way into an old house. An elderly man answered the door and requested a password: "Now then?"

"Plummy and slam." Shawn grinned to find the door sling wide open to welcome him inside. As he took off his jacket, the older man closed the door behind them and bolted it back in place.

"What took you so long, son? The family thought you'd be here an hour ago."

The teen paused. "Are they still here?" he asked.

"No, only a few decided to wait for you. You'll have to find out the rest from your grandfather."

"I thought you'd know something, Uncle."

"Of course I do. I'm just too lazy to spit it out." The uncle raised his apple cap, straightened his white hair back in place, and fixed it back on; afterwards, he took a seat at the table and poured a glass of wine. "You shouldn't keep guests waiting long. It makes them wonder."

Shawn laughed. "You're wild as usual… Where are they waiting?"

"The den. They'll probably be up any minute now." The aging man drank the wine in one sip. He wasn't Shawn's real uncle – in fact, Leon was his grandfather's uncle. "You visited the ho-house did ya?"

Clearly, he was amused; he nodded. "Yeah. I feel sorry for him. It's a shame he's such a pretty boy."

"And I don't want anything to happen to him. You keep an eye out on that kid for me," Leon proposed.

"Yes." Shawn said nothing else. His great uncle was a higher rank than he was.

Uncle Leon stood up and smiled. "Well, I need to tarry on elsewhere. I can hear them coming upstairs now."

"Arrividerci, Uncle." Shawn watched him leave as he heard footsteps coming on up.

Two other boys came out. One wore a red and black striped tie, a hat, was medium thick built, and had really curly black hair; the other was taller with honey brown hair and wore a white dry-cleaned shirt along with a pair of chinos. Their names were Manual and Carlo.

"Where the hell have you been for two weeks? Why didn't you tell us you were here?" Manual said as he excitedly grabbed Shawn's head in his left arm and gave him and noogie with the right one.

Shawn casually replied, "You're the one to talk. Where've you two been?"

"Just trying to find out what Colosimo's plans are," Carlo answered.

"But that's dangerous…"

Manual grinned. "There's nothing we can't handle. In the sixteen years I've been alive, I put over twenty men to rest with the fishes."

"You'd make a better hitman that a capo then," Shawn joked.

"I don't care. Any mafia position is an honor."

Carlo interrupted, "Well, what about you, Artful?" The two boys leaned in closer.

"…I met this prostitute working for Colosimo. She has to pay him, so I thought I'd help out a little and find out what's going on…" Shawn didn't want to reveal it all, including the fact that the prostitute was a boy in disguise; he only told them what they needed to know.

Manual whistled. "You're going to have a fucking hard time getting that, since the boss remains well-hidden. I don't think he would give the important information to the whore."

"Her pimp's an associate. I bet he's on Colosimo's good side."

"You know him?" Carlo asked.

"I'm supposed to meet him tomorrow and find out what his business is."

"Well, I gotta go. Let's us know what happens, all right?" Manual put on his hat.

"Yeah. I'll do that."

"Ciao," Manual and Carlo said together before leaving.

With nothing else left to do that afternoon, Shawn climbed up to his grandfather's study to see if he could get some updated information. When he came into the study, his grandfather was seated in there reading a newspaper, behind him his consigliere. His grandfather's friendly dark eyes looked up at him from the newspaper. The consigliere was busy with paperwork, which allowed the other two to catch up.

"There you are," the grandfather said. "Leon said you were busy."

"I was," Shawn replied. "Now I just have to wait until tomorrow."

"What are you doing tomorrow?"

"Getting information…"

"From who?"

"This prostitute I met…" Shawn answered.

The grandfather chuckled.

"Didn't Uncle tell you?"

The don stopped and his face molded back into his serious business-like face. "Oh. Yes. He did mention something about it."

Behind his cold exterior as a mafia boss, Shawn's grandfather had a very eccentric friendliness to him. He was aging and had tufts of white hair growing behind his ears and the crown of his head, but yet, he was still energetic and young.

"Did I miss anything too important?"

"There wasn't much to discuss...except for the growing kidnappings and all the other stuff going on." The Don stood up and gestured to Shawn's jacket. "Where's your gun?"

Shawn pulled it out. "Right here."

"Are you out of bullets?"

"Yes."

"Figures…" the boss murmured. He reached in his desk and pulled out two guns – one .22 caliber and a brand new Thompson machine gun. "Take these. Keep the caliber in your gun strap. As for the machine gun, keep it in your car where nobody but you can find it. I'd use the trunk compartment if I were you."

Shawn gladly took the guns his grandfather handed him. "Thanks, pops."

"One more thing…" his grandfather said.

"Yes?"

"Be careful and take care of yourself. If you need help, I will send you some help."

"Same with you."

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That evening, Roy and Edward took their time, since both were very stressed out. Ed ended up napping on the couch and Roy in the chair reading a newspaper. It was quiet for about two hours, but when Ed stirred awake, he saw that Roy was still seated in the chair still reading the same newspaper.

"Did you get tired of reading porn?" he asked.

Roy looked up. "What makes you think that, Fullmetal?"

"Never mind." Ed rolled over.

"There've been more kidnappings…"

"I'm not surprised."

"Of course you're not…unless it happens to you."

Ed stifled a laugh. "What makes you think I'm going to get kidnapped?"

"Oh…I don't think I will tell you…"

"Why?"

"That's for me to know and for you to find out."

He sighed. "Would you kidnap me?"

Roy grinned. "I could. In fact, I probably already have."

"Quit flirting!" Ed's whole face turned red.

"…Well that's a change of subject. You see, Fullmetal, there's a big difference between talking and flirting."

"Flirting involves talking." He stopped to see if the expression on the Colonel's face changed. Apparently not, because he sighed once more and said, "Never mind…I'm sick of playing mind games with you all the time. It's really getting old."

Roy peered above the newspaper. "Is that how you feel?"

Ed was confused for a second, because he thought Roy was being sarcastic.

"No, really. I'm serious," Roy assured him. "If that's how you really feel about it, then I'll stop. All you had to do was tell me."

"I don't know what to say to that. I didn't know you even cared…for all those years…"

A small grin appeared on Roy's face. "Do you really think I'm _that_ cold, Edward? As long as you're alive, I'll always care. I get very upset if you are put in any kind of danger. Even for the situation we're in right now – the Furher shouldn't have let you gone in the first place."

"I still have to save Al, you know. He's my brother."

"That's true."

There was a long moment of silence between the two. Ed's face slowly flushed red, and he was about to say something when something black, fat, and feathery abruptly hit the glass window before sliding off it like a pancake.

"Stupid bird…" Ed mumbled. "You think it would figure out that you can't fly through glass by now…" He could hear the bird impulsively squawking out cuss words by the second.

"I guess we'll have no choice but to switch hotels soon."

"I was thinking the same thing."

Later that night, Ed pulled the covers back to make sure Flug was hiding there. With a sigh of relief, he got into bed and waited for Roy to hurry in so he could get some sleep. Maybe it would be different being with the man who had been his rival since he had joined the military? He was getting tired of waiting, so he pulled the covers over his shoulder, turned around, and at least tried to doze off.

Several minutes later, Roy came in; Ed pretended to be asleep. Not long after, the lamp was turned off, and Ed soon heard Roy snoring beside him. He couldn't sleep. That nap he took earlier probably wasn't a very good idea. Bored, he watched Roy as he slept wondering if he would be nicer now. Ed blushed when he realized how much he was actually thinking of him.

Somewhat hesitant, he quickly pressed his lips to Roy's cheek before he turned over and drifted into a heavy curtain of sleep.

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A/N: Feel free to review.


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